A few weeks ago, while we were watching TV one evening, my girlfriend snuggled up to me on the sofa and we had a cuddle. Just a cuddle.
I didn’t automatically seize on this show of affection as an opportunity to initiate sex. We had a simple, chaste and rather lovely cuddle. And that was it.
Anyone in a long-standing relationship will not see this incident as being worthy of any note. Indeed, some may well be uttering a cautionary ‘uh-oh’, recognising it as a familiar first step on the path to a passionless relationship. But for me it was a colossal achievement.
When I read in Femail last week the story of a woman who endured 30 years of marriage to a sex addict, I recognised myself all too painfully, writes Daniel Whitehaven
I am a sex addict. A recovering one. I have a chronic, destructive disorder, exactly the same as those addicted to alcohol, drugs, food, gambling or stealing. Like my fellow sufferers, I’m aware that many people reading this will cynically assume I am simply medicalising my appalling behaviour in an attempt to rationalise it. And just like other sufferers, my addiction has wreaked havoc on my relationships, my self-worth and mental well-being. Yet it’s one I am finally — as demonstrated by the events on the sofa the other evening — learning to master.
When I read in Femail last week the story of a woman who endured 30 years of marriage to a sex addict, I recognised myself all too painfully. Like that poor woman’s husband, I had no idea how severely my addiction had me in its grip, nor the harm it was inflicting on others. Not until I sat in couples therapy with my now ex-wife, Julia, seven years ago did I have any understanding of the toll that my behaviour had taken on her.
That’s the trouble with addiction; it consumes your mind, life and actions, rendering you utterly selfish and incapable of contemplating its impact on others.
During our first counselling session, one summer’s day in 2017, Julia sobbed as she spoke candidly about how our four-year marriage had left her feeling worthless, how she’d struggled to keep up with my exhausting demands for sex up to five times a day and how she was left doubting herself as a wife when I still felt compelled to sneak off to watch porn. The truth is, she knew barely half of it. All those late-night walks when I couldn’t sleep? I was out visiting prostitutes or picking up strangers in bars. By the time we said our marriage vows at a country hotel in 2013 — five years after our first date — I estimate I’d slept with over 300 other women behind Julia’s back.
